


Tender Loving Care

by Faramirlover



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faramirlover/pseuds/Faramirlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hathaway needs looking after.</p>
<p>Response to a prompt valancy_joy on livejournal.<br/>prompt: hathaway + cuddles. I'm not picky how or from who :) Just all teh cuddles!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Loving Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valancy_joy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valancy_joy/gifts).



“Bleeding hell, Jim! You’re soaked. Get inside.”

“Sir,” James nodded and stepped across the threshold “um, I’m dripping everywhere.”

James looked so forlorn at his predicament that Robbie had to fight the urge to laugh. James probably wouldn’t have appreciated it. “Well spotted, lad.”

“Perhaps I should just go home,” James turned to go.

“No you don’t,” Lewis commanded, catching James’ elbow and pulling him further into the house, “I’ve spent ages on dinner, you’re staying.”

“You cooked?”

“Well no… but I spent ages picking the Indian.”

James’ chuckle was cut off by a sneeze.

“Don’t tell me you’ve caught a cold. How long were you out there?”

James shrugged, “fifteen minutes? I knocked a few times but you didn’t answer.”

Robbie sighed, “I’ve told you time and again to just let yourself in. That’s what your keys for.”

“I thought it was for emergencies.”

“And you standing on the door step catching pneumonia doesn’t count as an emergency?”

James was half way through another shrug when he was cut off by a second sneeze.

“That’s it, go get in the shower, warm up, I’ll give your clothes a wash.”

“But what would I wear?”

“Got something against my clothes? I’ll put something out for you. Go on with you.”

James had no option but to obey, trudging up the stairs and locking himself in the bathroom.

“Stick your stuff outside the door,” Robbie called after him.

There was an answering sneeze then the bathroom door opened and shut.

“Pants as well, lad. No point in wearing wet undies.”

A groan and the underpants were summarily provided.

Right, first job, washing.

Robbie found the sopping clothes stacked outside the bathroom door (neatly folded, he noted) and took them downstairs to the washing machine. A careful double check of labels saved the suit from being washed about 20 degrees too high (thanks Val, love, for teaching me that one) and the machine was off, rumbling around in a comforting sort of way. It was a sound that reminded him of Val herself. He’d get home from work late and she’d order him to strip. After a moment of excitement it was always revealed that it was his shirt she wanted, not his body, and she’d scoop up his clothes and whisk them away to the utility room, muttering about coffee stains. Nine times after ten she’d return a few minutes later and berate him for standing naked in her hallway before leading him upstairs for a quick cuddle.

Those had been good days.

He shook himself out of his memories at the sound of the shower switching off upstairs. Bugger, job number two. He raced upstairs and started rooting through drawers. He found an old pair of joggers shoved in the bottom of a drawer. They’d stretched out a lot in the leg when he’d hung them on the line so would probably be only a little short on his sergeant. T-shirt, pants and a hoodie Lynn had bought him but he’d never worn were grabbed as well and he dumped them on the floor outside the bathroom.

“Clothes are out here when you need ‘em, lad. I’ll be downstairs.”

O

Footsteps on the stairs announced James’ presence and Robbie looked up to find him standing uncertainly in the doorway. The joggers were about an inch to short and the hoodie was massive. Robbie thought he looked rather adorable.

“Come on, lad. Park your bum and dig in.” James did as he was told. “Rerun of Midsomer alright for you?”

“Which one?”

“The one with the concrete in the car.”

James hmmed, “that’ll do me.”

The rest of the evening passed with picking over the Indian, several beers and poking fun at shoddy police technique. Somewhere between death by sliding door and death by concrete James fell asleep. First his breathing slowed then his head dropped sideways. Soon Hathaway was slumped against his shoulder, snoring softly. Robbie chuckled and draped an arm round his sergeants shoulder. James snuggled closer.

He didn’t wake up until Robbie shifted to reach the remote, switching the TV off and plunging the room into near darkness. James stretched but didn’t move back to his own end of the sofa.

“time is it?” he asked blearily.

“Bed time.”

“Hm? ‘k. Can I borrow a blanket?”

Robbie took a deep breath and shook his head.

“No… Come to bed, James.”

Maybe he was still half asleep but James didn’t seem surprised by the command, only nodded and struggled to his feet.

“I’ll warn you sir. I’m a cuddler.”

Robbie let out a sigh of relief and stood too, taking James’ hand and giving it a light squeeze. “I noticed lad. I think I can live with it.”


End file.
